A Thousand Years
by StarFire150
Summary: "But, Wendy was not to see Peter Pan again," "Did she mind very much?" Her daughter asked her. "No, I knew he would forget, he has so many adventures," No matter how true this statement was, Wendy always thought back to a time when Peter Pan once told her that he would never forget her, even after a thousand years. Takes place during Syfy's Peter Pan 'Neverland'.
1. Prologue

_This is a Peter Pan fic, Peter/Wendy! Please Read and Review!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan!_

A Thousand Years

Prologue

_Dear Diary, _

_I haven't wrote in this old thing for what seems like a thousand years! Of course, not that much time has passed since the last time I wrote to you, diary. I remember referring to you as if you was real! I sometimes really do miss being a little girl, I remember my mothers once saying to me, when I brought to her a flower, 'Oh, I wish you would remain like this forever!' That was the time when I knew I was going to grow up, at two years old. Two years old is always the beginning of the end. Sadly, my mother is no longer alive, she passed quite some time ago, when my daughter Jane turned four. But, Jane is now nine years old, though, she is very mature for her age, mind you. I believe, she inherits that trait from my dear brother John, her uncle. _

_It seems as if Jane is not afraid of growing up, while I am. I worry that she is growing up too fast, it seems that she is already waving goodbye to her childhood even though, it has not yet ended. So, every night before she goes to bed, I like to to tell her of a boy I once knew, and, in fact, the last time I wrote to you, was the last time I saw him._

_The day we met, was a day I will never forget, I probably couldn't even if I tried. We met in the most unlikely of circumstances, but as soon as I met him, not even knowing his name at the time, he was gone. I dreamed of him, I dreamed of a boy who could fly. I told my brothers of this magnificent boy I dreamed of and they were fascinated by him, especially young Michael, who passed away only a year ago._

_My father never approved of fairy tales but my mother loved to tell her children about them. Father was never a fan of them, and he often scolded my mother for telling us them. One day, he said, 'There's not such thing as fair-' I, however, stopped him before he could finish that dreadful sentence. I digress this boy that I had the pleasure of meeting, showed me amazing things, and he even taught me how to fly! I couldn't help, but fall in love with him, which was a stupid thing of me too do, I never found out if he returned my feelings._

_I promised myself that I would not write to you again until I saw him again. He promised me that I would see him again, unless he forget. But, I knew that I was not going to see him again, he had so many adventures. When I tuck Jane in at night, I normally leave the room, and I stand by the door. I normally catch Jane leaping out of bed, and running for the window, and she sits, and waits. By the time she realizes he is not coming for her that night, she drags herself back to bed. I never tell her off for doing this, because this dream she had of meeting the boy kept her childhood alive._

_However, this boy was no ordinary boy, he was the boy who would never grow up. _

_And, his name was Peter Pan._

_..._

_Sorry it's short! But it's only the prologue, pleeeeeeease reviewwwwwwww!_

_Carpe Diem!_


	2. Chapter 1

_I'm still contemplating on whether or not I should continue this story, because of lack of reviews, but I decided that I WOULD continue with this story, however it would be on the bottom of my to-do list, because I have other fanfictions that need tending too. If, I gain more reviews then I will spend more of my time on this fanfiction._

_This is set in syfy's version of Peter Pan, entitled 'Neverland'_

_My rambling aside..._

_Word count: 2469_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan!**

A Thousand Years

Chapter 1

_Dear Diary, _

_Father has taken John and Michael on their first ever fishing trip! I'm so very happy for them! Although, I worry that Michael will not enjoy the trip, because mother tells me that fishing can become quite boring sometimes when there are no fish about to catch, and I then begin to ponder on the fact that Michael is only a young boy, so he won't be very attentive, and he may just throw one of his tantrums out of sheer boredom!_

_But, the fact that fishing can get quite boring, does not put me off on wanting to go. Ever since I can remember, I always dreamed that father would one day let me go fishing with him, and as the years passed, I finally became courageous enough to ask father if I may join him on his fishing trip. It did not go exactly to plan though, because he simple chuckled, and petted my head, saying: "If your name was Wendell and you were a boy, I'd be more than happy to take you." I never understood quite what father meant by this. Nonetheless, I do hope John and Michael have a nice day out with father._

_Every time father goes on one of his fishing trips, mother always makes sure that she goes shopping so that we have the right ingredients to bake something. It is always a great joy to spend time with mother, 'baking the day away'. I think that we are going to be making a cake today, because father loves cakes, so maybe he'll be so grateful for the lovely desert, that he will one day take me fishing aswell?_

_I highly doubt it._

_Oh well, I don't think it matters to me any more anyway. I guess I'm still just trying to hold onto my childhood. Nothing unusual about that, right diary?_

_Speaking of unusual. I had that dream again. I dreamed of a boy who could fly. It was very strange, to say the least. He was a very handsome boy, yet, he seemed very familiar, almost as if I had already met him. That dark brown hair, and those brown eyes...those eyes that were filled with childlike innocence, yet, and I say yet again, they were endearing to look at, every time I dreamed, I always go lost into those breath taking eyes..._

"Wendy?"

Wendy quickly snapped out of her day dream, and called back,

"Yes mother?"

"Can you come down here a minute?"

Before she did anything else, Wendy turned back to her diary, writing.

_Well, I'd love to stay and write, but mother awaits. Cheerio diary, until next time._

After that was taken care of, Wendy slammed her diary with a satisfying _thump_, and quickly stood up too straighten her dress. Running to the mirror, Wendy hastily picked up her brush, and brushed through her golden locks that ended just past her shoulders. Rubbing her face once over with a discarded nearby towel, Wendy smiled at her reflection, and it smiled back at her. She quickly curtseyed at it and waved goodbye.

"Coming mother!" Wendy replied, running out of the nursery and trotting down the stairs.

Wendy's family wasn't the richest of the rich, they were your average Victorian family. Wendy's mother always told Wendy, and her brothers, John and Michael, how lucky they all were because their father was a banker, and their mother, Mary, liked to make pottery from time to time so she occasionally sold them. Mary also liked to sew, and she was considered the best sewer down the street they lived. So Wendy was well trained in the art of sewing. The Darling family simply got by, they didn't have the money for luxuries, and they could only ever afford occasional trips to the sea side, once a year at least. Nana was the nurse of Wendy, John, and Michael, hired by Mr Darling to look after the children on his modest income. Even though George Darling was somewhat embarrassed to have a dog in his employ, Nana was very good at her job. Wendy loved Nana very much, and she never misbehaved for her, because Nana could be very strict when needed be.

"Yes mother?" Wendy questioned, standing in the open doorway of the kitchen.

The kitchen was mostly used for cooking and baking. Washing-up, scrubbing vegetables and all the messy, low-status activities that involved water were done in the scullery. Even the smallest Victorian houses had a separate scullery. The kitchen walls were made up of plain plaster. A bag of laundry blue in the paint bucket imparted a faint blue tinge to the walls, which was said to repel flies and imparted a feeling of coolness to the room. Lower down, the walls were covered with a high dado of tongue-and-groove boarding with glazed bricks used for hard wear and hygiene. Open ranges generated huge amounts of heat, and so kitchens had high ceilings, with the windows set as high in the walls as possible, for the most efficient ventilation. The Darlings were one of the first families to gain a gas cooker down their street. Cooking and baking took less time with a gas cooker. Wooden duckboards were used around the table, where the person cooking stood, and the floor consisted of unglazed tiles, some where chipped and fractured because the house was quite old, but the Darlings couldn't afford to get them fixed, but it didn't matter to Mary Darling anyway, she was quite fond of every individual chip or fracture, as they were all reminiscence of the past. She remembered how and why each chip and fracture came to be.

Mary Darling was married to George Darling. George Darling was a bank worker, and could be quite loud and boisterous, as well as pompous and self-important. He seeked to gain attention from his co-workers and from his wife and children. Mary Darling looked very similar to Wendy, as they both shared the same striking green eyes, and button nose, however Mary's hair was darker in colour, and it often tended to curl at the end, where as Wendy's hair lay flat against her shoulders.

Mrs Darling stood in the kitchen wearing a simple dress with a faded pink apron tied to it. The faded apron had on it various stains and hand prints that would never come out in the wash. She looked immaculate as always, even though there was traces of flour in her hair, and she was sweating ever so slightly from the heat.

"Dear, it appears I've forgotten the milk." Mrs Darling told her, rubbing her hands down her apron.

"Oh," Wendy breathed, "Would you like me to go out and get some?"

"But it is rather nippy out there, I wouldn't want you to catch a cold."

"I'll be fine." Wendy assured, "It wouldn't take too long, the shop is only round the corner."

"Well, if you're sure." Mary said hesitantly, reaching for her purse on the counter, and taking out a couple of pennies.

"Don't threat mother, I'll be back soon!" Wendy proclaimed as she kissed her mother on the cheek, and took the pennies from her outstretched hand. She ran to the banister and picked up her faded brown shawl, wrapping it around herself in the process.

"Be careful dear!" Mary called out as Wendy closed the heavy front door with a _bang. _

The Victorian Street was a very narrow, slum-like passage surrounded on both sides by small badly constructed houses with a very dirty outward appearance as a result of the billows of smoke that came from all the chimneys on every house on the street. The hustle and bustle of people in the tiny street itself showed an outward appearance of poverty and her way towards the crossing, Wendy passed many other shops, that none of which were a convenient store. They were mainly shops selling clothes, shoes and watches. Wendy presses her face against one of the display widows, looking in awe at the various expensive watches, until the shop owner from inside the shop banged on the window, and sent her away using violent hand gestures, as he could see from the way she was dressed that she could not afford anything from inside the shop, and he didn't want her presents scaring away the customers.

The smell of food wafted in the air, no doubt coming from the nearby bakery. Wendy fingered the pennies in her dress pocket, with that money she could easily afford a ginger bread man or two, but her mother had given her that money to go and buy a jug of milk, and she couldn't go home having not brought the milk, claiming that there was none left, because Wendy was a terrible liar, and her mother would see the bread crumbs that still lingered around her mouth. Sighing, Wendy picked up the pace of her walking, and quickly shot by the bakery, knowing that temptation would get the best of her.

Next to the bakery stood a green grocers shop. The smell emanating from the shop tingled Wendy's nose. The mixture of onion, garlic, dried fish, pepper and spices made a potent combination. Wendy held her breath for a moment as she walked quickly past the green grocers shop. She wondered how the people working inside the shops could stand the smell. _Perhaps they were used to it, _Wendy thought too herself.

There was many people walking along the five-foot ways on both sides of the street. It was about one o'clock in the afternoon and many office-workers was out for their lunch break. Wendy could see smartly dressed men and women hurrying towards the eating places further down the street. One man dressed in a business suit shoved past her, and almost knocked her clean off of her feet.

Spotting a nearby convenient store, Wendy made a bee-line to cross the pebbled street, and waited for the perfect opportunity to cross it. When a gap between the carriages emerged, Wendy quickly ran across the street, and saw a nearby group of Victorian men having their picture taken. Suddenly, Wendy shrieked in surprise when a boy of about her age ran past her, and three other boys followed, with a look of determination on their faces. She was lucky to avoid getting knocked over, and she pondered on whether or not she should go help the young boy. He looked like he was in a spot of trouble, and Wendy could only fathom on what those three boys would do when they caught the younger boy. Feeling a pang of guilt, Wendy entered the store and went to buy the milk she had offered to get for her mother, thinking that maybe nearby policemen would help the young boy in trouble.

Picking up the nearest bottle of milk, Wendy skipped over happily to the counter and placed the milk on there. The shop keeper smiled kindly at her, when she had to stand ever so slightly on her tip toes to reach the counter.

"What's a little girl like you going to do with some milk?" he asked her politely.

"My mother and I are baking a cake for when my brothers and my father return from their fishing trip, fishing can be quite tiring you know." Wendy replied quickly with a smile.

"Really?" the shop keeper enquired as he placed the bottle of milk in a small bag.

Wendy handed him the pennies.

"Oh yes, it really can! I'd like to go at least once, but father never lets me."

"Well, I'm sure he'll take you one day." The shop keeper replied, as he handed Wendy's change back to her.

Wendy gasped in horror.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Oh sir, please do keep the change! It's the least I can do for your kind services!"

"Well," he began, looking absolutely baffled, "I never, that is very kind of you...er..."

"Wendy, sir." Wendy said.

"Well, Wendy, I must say that you're probably one of my most kindest customers yet! I won't forget you for a good while dear. Now, you run back to your mother and tell her felicitations for raising such a wonderful daughter."

"Thank you sir!" Wendy exclaimed, as she exited the shop, with her purchased item at hand, and prepared for her short journey home.

A high pitched sound was heard as Wendy calmly crossed the pebbled road. She covered her ears, and looked for the source of the unpleasant sound. Almost instantaneously, she heard a _crash, _and Wendy quickly turned to be faced two horses pulling along an empty cart, at full speed as they appeared to be in a blind panic. Wendy heard someone yelling at her as she stood stock still, too frightened to move out of the way of her impending doom. Finally finding her voice, Wendy screamed and dropped the bag which contained to milk. Closing her eyes, Wendy prepared for the impact that would surely kill her.

Suddenly, someone yanked her arm, and pulled her out of the way unaware horses that galloped past the point at which she once stood.

Wendy lay on the floor with someone supporting her arms. She couldn't help but imagine what she would have looked like lying on that street, covered in blood, appearing lifeless as people rushed to help her but it would have been too late. Turning round too look at who had saved her, the colour green clashed with the colour brown, as she stared into the eyes of a young boy. Everything around her froze, as she continued too gaze at him, her eyes squinted in confusion as she tried to make sense of a fuzzy image. Wendy attempted to brush the hair out of her face, and her hand ran over a small lump. _I must have hit my head,_ she thought to herself.

"Peter!" A nearby voice called.

The boy nodded at her, before quickly disappearing out of her field of vision. Wendy attempted to call out something to stop him from leaving, but no words sounded. A man quickly ran over to her and helped her up.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, as she brushed her dress down.

"Quite." Wendy replied, not really paying attention as she looked towards the direction the boy ran in, he was nowhere insight.

"You are very lucky." the man said, as she rubbed her head absent-mindedly.

"Yes." Wendy replied.

"Run along home now, and ask your mother to call the doctor, you hit your head quite hard."

"Yes sir, thank you."

Wendy crossed the road as the man stalked off, and all the way home she had one thought, and one thought only on her mind.

_I've seen those eyes before._

…

_Thank you very much for reading! Please review and chapter 2 will be up sometime soon!_

_Carpe Diem!_


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